


The Vision

by CuddlesandChocolateCake



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, Lingerie, Smut, sin - Freeform, we all wanted this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 07:42:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7968235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuddlesandChocolateCake/pseuds/CuddlesandChocolateCake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This occurs after Rhys and company return from the Summer Court, when Rhys finds the blood rubies. I know I’m not only speaking for myself here when I say I was extremely disappointed that we didn’t get to see how Rhys’s little scene would play out… so *ahem* I did it for you guys (and myself, tbh). I messed with the tenses a little bit, so forgive me if I stray a bit from the true dialogue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Vision

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pterodactylichexameter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pterodactylichexameter/gifts).



> I take absolutely no credit for the dialogue or ideas in this fiction. They all belong to Sarah J. Maas.

“I understand,” I said, rubbing some warmth into my now-chilled hands, “why you did what you had to in order to protect this city.” Imagining the destruction that had been wreaked upon Adriata here in Velaris made my blood run cold. His eyes slid to me, wary and dull. I swallowed. “And I understand why you will do anything to keep it safe during the times ahead.”

“And your point is?”

A bad day—this was a bad day, I realized, for him. I didn’t scowl at the bite in his words. “Get through this war, Rhysand, and then worry about Tarquin and the blood rubies. Nullify the Cauldron, stop the king from shattering the wall and enslaving the human realm again, and then we’ll figure out the rest after.”

“You sound as if you plan to stay here for a while.” A bland, but edged question.

“I can find my own lodging, if that’s what you’re referring to. Maybe I’ll use that generous paycheck to get myself something lavish.”

 _Come on. Wink at me. Play with me. Just—stop looking like that_.

He only said, “Spare your paycheck. Your name has already been added to the list of those approved to use my household credit. Buy whatever you wish. Buy yourself a whole damn house if you want.”

I ground my teeth, and maybe it was panic or desperation, but I said sweetly, “I saw a pretty shop across the Sidra the other day. It sold what looked to be lots of lacy little things. Am I allowed to buy that on your credit, too, or does that come out of my personal funds?”

Those violet eyes again drifted to me. “I’m not in the mood.”

There was no humor, no mischief. I could go warm myself by a fire inside, but …

He had stayed. And fought for me.

Week after week, he’d fought for me, even when I had no reaction, even when I had barely been able to speak or bring myself to care if I lived or died or ate or starved. I couldn’t leave him to his own dark thoughts, his own guilt. He’d shouldered them alone long enough.

So I held his gaze. “I never knew Illyrians were such morose drunks.”

“I’m not drunk—I’m drinking,” he said, his teeth flashing a bit.

“Again, semantics.” I leaned back in my seat, wishing I’d brought my coat. “Maybe you should have slept with Cresseida after all—so you could both be sad and lonely together.”

“So you’re entitled to have as many bad days as you want, but I can’t get a few hours?”

“Oh, take however long you want to mope. I was going to invite you to come shopping with me for said lacy little unmentionables, but … sit up here forever, if you have to.”

He didn’t respond.

I went on, “Maybe I’ll send a few to Tarquin—with an offer to wear them for him if he forgives us. Maybe he’ll take those blood rubies right back.”

His mouth barely, _barely_ tugged up at the corners. “He’d see that as a taunt.”

“I gave him a few smiles and he handed over a family heirloom. I bet he’d give me the keys to his territory if I showed up wearing those undergarments.”

“Someone thinks mighty highly of herself.”

“Why shouldn’t I? You seem to have difficulty not staring at me day and night.”

There it was—a kernel of truth and a question.

“Am I supposed to deny,” he drawled, but something sparked in those eyes, “that I find you attractive?”

“You’ve never said it.”

“I’ve told you many times, and quite frequently, how attractive I find you.”

I shrugged, even as I thought of all those times—when I’d dismissed them as teasing compliments, nothing more. “Well, maybe you should do a better job of it.”

The gleam in his eyes turned into something predatory. A thrill went through me as he braced his powerful arms on the table and purred, “Is that a challenge, Feyre?”

I held that predator’s gaze—the gaze of the most powerful male in Prythian. “ _Is_ it?”

His pupils flared. Gone was the quiet sadness, the isolated guilt. Only that lethal focus—on me. On my mouth. On the bob of my throat as I tried to keep my breathing even. He said, slow and soft, “Why don’t we go down to that store right now, Feyre, so you can try on those lacy little things—so I can help you pick which one to send to Tarquin.”

My toes curled inside my fleece-lined slippers. Such a dangerous line we walked together. The ice-kissed night wind rustled our hair.

But Rhys’s gaze cut skyward—and a heartbeat later, Azriel shot from the clouds like a spear of darkness.

I wasn’t sure whether I should be relieved or not, but I left before Azriel could land, giving the High Lord and his spymaster some privacy.

As soon as I entered the dimness of the stairwell, the heat rushed from me, leaving a sick, cold feeling in my stomach.

There was flirting, and then there was … this.

I had loved Tamlin. Loved him so much I had not minded destroying myself for it—for him. And then everything had happened, and now I was here, and … and I might have very well gone to that pretty shop with Rhysand.

I could almost see what would happen:

The shop ladies were polite—a bit nervous—and gave us privacy as Rhys sat on the settee in the back of the shop while I went behind the curtained-off chamber to try on the red lace set I’d eyed thrice now. And when I emerged, mustering up more bravado than I felt, Rhys looked me up and down. Twice.

And he kept staring at me as he informed the shop ladies that the store was closed and they should all come back tomorrow, and we left the tab on the counter.

I stood there, naked save for scraps of red lace, while we listened to the quick, discreet sounds of them closing up and leaving.

And he looked at me the entire time—at my breasts, visible through the lace; at the plane of my stomach, now finally looking less starved and taut. At the sweep of my hips and thighs—between them. Then he met my gaze again, and crooked a finger with a single murmured, “Come here.”

And I walked to him, aware of every step, as I at last stopped in front of where he sat. Between his legs.

His hands slid to my waist, the calluses scraping my skin. Then he tugged me a bit closer before leaning in to brush a kiss to my navel, his tongue laving up, up my body, closer and closer to…

Faster than I thought possible, the scrap of red lace that had been barely covering my chest was undone and drifting towards the floor, and Rhys’s mouth was on me. He kissed me between my breasts before finding my nipple, which he took between his teeth, biting softly. He cupped my other breast and teased it to a peak while he continued his sucking and biting, turning my legs to jelly.

Feeling me tremble, he swept me into his arms, our mouths finding each other in a frenzied, greedy kiss, before he set me down on the settee and straddled me. He nipped at my earlobe, and I felt him smirk against my ear when I shivered from the contact. Kisses peppered my cheek, my jaw, my neck, as Rhys started his agonizingly slow descent down my trembling body.

When he reached the waistband of my lacy panties, his pupils blotted out the rest of his violet eyes, and he hovered over me. I couldn’t take it any longer, and tried to wriggle out of the lace, to no avail.

“Going somewhere?” he purred in a sultry voice that made my body sing with wanting. He pinned down my legs, which had parted for him without me noticing, and drummed a finger over me, above my soaked panties. I felt like I would combust at the touch, and he must have seen it, because his smirk widened and he pressed his thumb onto my most sensitive spot.

“ _Please_ , Rhys, take them off,” I whimpered, the wetness between my thighs aching to be touched.

“Such nice manners,” he crooned, and at last dragged them down to my ankles, where I kicked them off. Still keeping my legs rooted in place, he dragged his finger through my wetness. I moaned loud enough that I knew Velaris would have no doubt what was going on in this store, and Rhys grinned, continuing the motion until I was writhing beneath him.

“ _Please_ ,” I moaned, not exactly sure what I was asking for, but wanting more, more, _more_.

“Such refined manners tonight, Feyre darling.” He withdrew his hand, and my body cried out at the loss of contact, but he replaced his fingers with his tongue, and I was going to explode and light the world on fire. He worked me in tight circles, licking and sucking until I was screaming his name, and when he slipped in a finger, I combusted. He did not relent, devouring me through the waves of pleasure, and leaving me shaking beneath him with a steady chanting of “ _Don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop_ ,” escaping my lips.

Despite the pleasure he had just thoroughly wrung from me, I still craved more. He scooped up my shivering form and whispered in my ear, the hot breath setting my blood boiling once more, “Don’t worry, Feyre darling. When we do this for real, I won’t stop.” And before my confusion could even register…

I swore as I slammed into my bedroom door.

And I blinked—blinked as the world returned and I realized …

I glared at the eye tattooed in my hand and hissed both with my tongue and that silent voice within the bond itself, “ _Prick_.”

In the back of my mind, a sensual male voice chuckled with midnight laughter.

My face burning, cursing him for the vision he’d slipped past my mental shields, I reinforced them as I entered my room. I collapsed on my bed, rubbing my thighs together in a futile attempt to relieve the very real ache that had built between them, and I mulled over the words that he’d left me with. “ _When we do this for real, I won’t stop._ ” I shivered at the promise, and maybe it made me an unfaithful traitor, but I was secretly hoping he’d follow through.

The pounding between my legs was unforgiving and unrelenting, and I desperately needed release. In the back of my mind, however, the remnants of Rhys’s laughter echoed down the bond, laced with his arrogant smirk, and I decided that I would not give him the satisfaction. So I walked painstakingly to the bathroom, trying to forget the tantalizing images of the vision Rhys had created. And took a very, very cold bath.

**Author's Note:**

> This work was sourced from Chapter 38 of A Court of Mist and Fury, by Sarah J. Maas. I hope you enjoyed my spin on it!


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